


I'm Dying to See How This One Ends

by Chash



Series: Coming Out of My Cage and I've Been Doing Just Fine [7]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-09
Updated: 2015-12-09
Packaged: 2018-05-05 21:56:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5391788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s okay to care about this, you know. It’s an Oscar. I’m not even an actor and I want an Oscar.”</p><p>“If I get an Oscar, it’ll be your Oscar too. Once we’re married everything that’s mine is yours.”</p><p>“So you definitely have to win. I need an Oscar, Clarke.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Dying to See How This One Ends

**Author's Note:**

> Holiday prompt fill for [ottersandotherstuff](http://ottersandotherstuff.tumblr.com/%22)!

The longer Bellamy and Clarke are together, the less he feels like he’s with  _Clarke Griffin_. She’s just Clarke, his fiancee, the person he’s going to spend the rest of his life with. The woman whose hair is in his mouth when he wakes up in the morning. It’s easy to forget she used to be a famous actress, because he’s never really known her as one.

But they are going to the fucking  _Academy Awards_.

“Can I still bring a sparkly clutch?” he asks. “Is that going to damage your reputation?”

“What the fuck do I care?” Clarke asks. She has her head in his lap as she idly looks through a wedding magazine. He’s pretty sure neither of them will be even a little involved in planning their own wedding, because none of their friends trust them, but Clarke seems to find the knowledge that they will be married someday comforting. It’s something to distract her from going back to LA to possibly get the biggest acting award you can get. “My reputation at this point is  _left the business to hook up with a small-town bookstore owner_. There’s nothing to ruin.”

“Hey, don’t say that. We can still totally ruin shit.”

Clarke smiles. “I really don’t care what you wear, honestly. It’s not like I’m going to win.”

“Why not?”

“It’s all political. And I’m not in politics anymore. Besides, I’m not convinced I deserve it.”

“Are you kidding? You blew everyone else out of the water.”

Clarke grins up at him. “You didn’t even see the other movies. You’re just saying that because I suck your dick regularly.”

“That’s definitely the only thing I like about you,” he agrees, and leans down to kiss her forehead. 

She smiles. “I do care,” she admits. “Just–not a lot. I know it’s a cliche, but it’s genuinely an honor just to be nominated. I never thought it would happen even when I was a real actress. And it’ll be cool to go with you. All shitty Hollywood events are better with you. And your many sparkly clutches.”

“So I should bring five sparkly clutches to the Oscars,” he says, nodding.

“At least five.”

*

As is tradition, Monroe meets them at the airport. Her sign this time is  _Tweedledee and Tweedledum_  and Bellamy twirls her around until she gets dizzy. He doesn’t care about LA, but he loves Monroe.

“Lexa told you she’s coming to plan our wedding, right?” Clarke asks. “You guys could make it a double wedding.”

“That’s not a thing,” says Monroe. “She did send clothes for you, though. And what I’m pretty sure is a bag from a child’s princess costume for Bellamy. It’s got a heart on it.”

“What color is the heart?” he asks. 

“Pink.”

“Awesome, perfect.”

Clarke leans against his shoulder as they follow Monroe to the car. “I love you, you know.”

“I know. Any particular reason you’re telling me now?”

“I’m nervous and emotional and the stupid thing isn’t until tomorrow. This is definitely going to get worse before it gets better. Like, a lot worse.”

“Cool,” he says. “Looking forward to it. I never get to see you totally freaking out anymore. It’ll be like when we first started dating, but you aren’t exhausted all the time.”

“Precious memories,” Clarke agrees. “You’re still going to marry me if I don’t get the Oscar, right?”

“Nope. I’m breaking it off immediately. My wife has to have an Oscar. It’s a requirement.”

“Harsh but fair,” she says. “I guess I’d better win.”

*

Wells is up for Best Director, and he and Clarke spend a while posing on the red carpet together making disbelieving faces while Bellamy and Harper watch with indulgent smiles. Then he has to pose with Clarke, and a bunch of people ask them probing questions about whether or not she’s pregnant, like they think they’ll be able to trip her up. Which would be really impressive, if they pulled it off. Drawing out secrets that don’t even exist.

“If I don’t get the Oscar, I should tell them I’m pregnant,” she says. “Just to change the story from  _Clarke Griffin Doesn’t Win Best Supporting Actress, Returns to Virginia in Shame_.”

“To what?  _Clarke Griffin Doesn’t Win Best Supporting Actress, Returns to Virginia Pregnant and in Shame_?”

“See? Totally better.” She rests her forehead against his should, just for a second. “I want to win.”

“I know. I want you to win too. But if you don’t get this one, you can get another one.”

“Yeah, but I’d have to get cast in another movie and make another movie and it’s a lot of work.”

He snorts and kisses her hair. “God forbid you have to work for an Oscar.”

“I’m just saying, it’s way easier if I get this one.” He sees her tongue dart out to wet her lips. “I just–I don’t get  _why_  I care. I’m not even an actress anymore. Everyone else who’s nominated is actually in the business. I don’t even deserve it.”

“Hey,” he says, mild. “Just because you quit doesn’t mean you’re a bad actress. I  _did_ see at least one of those other movies. And you were just–you’re amazing, Clarke. You’re not just a pretty face, you know. You deserve an Oscar because you’re a great actress and you were great in the movie.”

“What would we even do with an Oscar?”

“Someday, when our kid is in elementary school, it can take the Oscar in for show and tell and all the other kids will be jealous. Also, paperweight. Murder weapon, maybe? Like, in case of a home invasion.”

She laughs and squeezes his hand. “I don’t know how I ever did Hollywood shit without you.”

“Yeah, uh, you were famously a disaster without me. But that means if you want to do this again, you’ll be fine. I’ve got your back.”

“You do,” she says, and lets out a breath. “Okay, let’s go get drinks. We have to watch the whole Oscars, we need to be drunk.”

“Shit,” he says. “Is it too late to leave?”

“Way too late.”

He nods, as if he’s deeply upset about it. “Then, yeah, I’d better drink myself into oblivion.”

*

In the limo on the way home, Clarke tests the weight of the statue. “You think we could murder someone with this?” she asks, smiling. She’s been smiling since she got it, and Bellamy has too. He’s glad Best Supporting Actress is fairly early in the show; he was going to be stressing out until it got announced.

But she got it. Of course she got it. She’s the best.

“I think you can probably murder someone with anything, if you believe in yourself,” he says.

“That’s beautiful,” she says. “You should be a poet.”

“Thanks.” He kisses her hair. “Congratulations. Again. And thanks for kissing me with tongue on TV.”

“Any time.” She yawns and snuggles against his side, still staring at her Oscar. She’s got an  _Oscar_. He has the coolest fiancee in the entire universe. “Our wedding is going to be kind of a letdown after this.”

“Yeah,” he says. “The rest of your life is downhill from this moment. Sorry.”

“Oh well.”

He tugs her in close. “I’m so fucking proud of you.”

“You just want partial custody of my Oscar when we’re married,” she murmurs, eyes drifting shut.

“Well, it was going to be a pain for you to get another one.”

“But if I get another one, we can  _both_  have an Oscar.”

He laughs. “Yeah, okay, get on that.”

“Tomorrow,” she says, barely awake, and Bellamy leans his cheek against her hair.

“Fine. Tomorrow.”


End file.
